where the love light gleams
by dontmissthis
Summary: "But for Jane, it's like she's able to see the new wonders of Christmas through their eyes; it's like experiencing her childhood right alongside them all over again." Two-shot Christmas fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own anything. **

**A/N: This really has no purpose other than simply being holiday fluff. It'll be two chapters with chapter two focusing more on just Jane/Maura. Enjoy~**

* * *

Jane, standing at the bottom of the stairs, watches as their four year old, Emma, bounds a little too quickly down them. Her little black shoes are cute and already scuffed, the white tights will most definitely be torn by the end of the night, and the festive skirt and shirt will soon be wrinkled beyond recognition. But this is all forgotten as Jane's eyes abruptly zero in upon the red…blob…resting atop light brown hair.

"_Really_, Maura? That bow is bigger than her head."

"That's hardly true," Maura retorts, coming to a halt at the foot of the staircase beside Jane. "But at least she doesn't already have a stain on her brand new sweater…like someone I know."

Jane looks down to her very obnoxiously striped sweater (it's impossible to tell Maura no sometimes) and frowns. "Hey, I don't—oh."

Maura pointedly raises a brow. "Mhm. Now stay out of the food while I get dressed. The guests should be here at any moment."

"I don't know why Mommy still insists on calling our family guests," Jane mumbles just loudly enough for her daughter to hear.

Without removing her hands from her hips, Emma shrugs. "I dunno either. Are you wearing those?"

The accusatory tone makes Jane instantly look down to her trusty black boots. "Well I was planning on it…Why?"

Emma's head cocks. "Even _I_ know they don't match that shirt, Mama."

Jane flounders for words before putting on her best faux angry face. "Why I oughta…C'mere, you."

Shrieks of laughter peel throughout the house as Jane chases her through every room.

Finally catching her, Jane hoists her up over her shoulder. "Got ya."

"Mama," Emma laughs, out of breath from the short burst of energy. "Let's do it again!"

Jane feigns exhaustion as she falls onto the couch, Emma securely snuggled on her lap. "Give me a minute, sprout. You wore me out."

"Okay," she replies, leaning back against Jane's chest. "You get five minutes and then we do it again."

"Is that so? Huh. And here I thought _I_ was the one that made the rules."

"Santa makes the rules on Christmas…and he said to do it again in five minutes."

Smiling at the teasing, Jane kisses the crown of light hair.

This time of year never fails bring out her weaker side. Be it the holiday movies on the television (that may or may not be more for Jane's sake rather than Emma's), the time they painstakingly took to put up the garland and the lights, the time she's fortunate enough to spend with her wife and daughter…it's more than she had ever bargained for; it's more than she had ever hoped for herself in this hard, gritty life she has been dealt. Sometimes she wonders if she even deserved any of this goodness. But then she thinks of Maura's melt-your-heart smile and Emma's hands that somehow always end up knotted in Jane's hair during those moments before she drifts to sleep, and she doesn't question it. This life is hers, their love is hers, and she'll milk it for all it's worth until the very end.

"Mama?"

Still semi-lost in thought, Jane replies, "Hmm?"

"Is Santa gonna put my presents under the tree again?"

Jane looks up to the tree.

When she and Maura had first gotten married, it had been decorated elegantly with only the whitest lights and shiniest, matching ornaments. But as the years had gone by and their family had grown, the pristine perfection had faded into a new kind of perfect. White lights were replaced with obnoxiously bright, colored ones. The majority of the ornaments were now crafted by childish hands, and tinsel was strewn the thickest over the lower branches where their daughter's arms could reach the most.

It was the focal point of the decked-out room, for good reason, and she couldn't wait to see it evolve even more over the following years as their family grew.

"Yep," Jane finally replies, turning her daughter to face her. "What do you want him to bring?"

"I told you already," Emma exclaims in childish feigned-annoyance.

Jane laughs. "Well your Mama's getting old, kid. She forgets things every now and then."

Suddenly soft little hands are on Jane's cheeks. The atmosphere quickly changes and Emma's dark eyes, a carbon-copy of Jane's own, now shine with a sheen of unshed tears instead of being filled with the happy glow of before.

"No, Mama, you can't do that."

Jane's brow creases in confusion. "Can't do what?"

"I don't want you to get old," she softly replies.

"Why not?"

Fidgeting around on Jane's lap, Emma's face grows even more solemn and oddly worried before finally speaking. "Because Jo Fries got old and she," she stops briefly, her chin quivering, "I don't want you to get old, Mama. Please don't get old."

Jo, scraggly and sweet till the very end, had succumbed to old age just this past summer. They had all cried more tears than they had thought humanly possible, and Emma, then still three and completely encompassed in confusion, had no idea what had happened until Maura had explained (simple enough for Emma to understand) the cycle of life.

What they didn't expect Emma taking from that conversation was thinking that everything old would immediately expire and be placed under the tree in the back yard.

"No, baby…" Jane starts softly, taking Emma's hands in her own. "I didn't—I've got a long, long time until I'm that old. And so does your mommy. A really, _really _long time."

There's silence for a few moments as Emma mulls it over before looking back up to Jane. She holds up her pinky finger. "Promise?"

Jane nods in affirmation. Her pinky locks with her daughter's, "Promise. Now are you going to tell me what you want or not?"

Emma's quivering chin soon turns to a smile as she nods. "I want a Princess Arabella Barbie with blue shoes and a David Or—Ort—

"—Ortiz—"

"Ortiz jersey in red with blue letters. He makes the ball go very far!"

"That's reason enough," Jane concedes with a smile. "Is that all?"

Emma nods, then, brow scrunching, shakes her head. "I want to go to a game with you again. And Mommy. Oh, and can I get one of those big doggies with cheese and lots of pickles?"

"Sur—"

"No, you may not."

Clearly deflated, Emma quickly turns to look at Maura (how she's somehow managed to make her festive sweater look a lot less festive and a lot more high fashion, Jane will never understand).

"Mommyyyyy. Just one?"

Maura pointedly raises a brow at Jane as she comes to stand by the couch. "See what you've created?"

"Uh…A child with good taste?"

"More like a child with habits nearly as bad as your own." Maura leans down and plants a kiss on Emma's head. "You can have just one, okay? But only at the ball game."

"Yay!" Emma excitedly exclaims. She raises her arms towards Maura. "When is Nana coming?"

"She should be here quite soon." Maura groans as she lifts Emma and shifts her more comfortably on her hip. "You're getting so big! Would you like to help me finish the desserts?"

"Can I lick the spoon? Mama lets me lick the spoon."

Maura, aghast, looks to her wife. "Jane!"

Jane, aghast, looks to her daughter. "Em!"

Emma tries to stifle her giggles. "Sorry, Mama."

The doorbell—which is now unused except for holidays—resounds through the house in a low-pitched rumble.

"Looks like the circus is here," Jane mumbles as she stands from the couch. "I'll get it."

The door is opened to Angela, somehow holding three huge ceramic dishes, with Frankie and Tommy standing right behind—adorned in the ugliest Christmas sweaters Jane has ever seen.

Sweaters that exactly match their mother's.

"Nice shirt," she teases as they walk inside.

Frankie's brow cocks as he looks down at hers, zeroing in on the stain. "Yours too. How'd ya miss your big mouth anyway?"

Almost instantaneously she strikes with an open palm. "At least I didn't miss your big head."

"Ouch!" Frankie frowns, rubbing the back of his head as he looks to Maura. "You let her do that in front of the kid?"

"I gave up trying to stop her approximately 3 years ago," Maura shrugs. "Give or take a little."

"Hello," Jane interjects, pointing to herself. "Jane is standing right here. And she'd prefer you not talking about her habits right in front of her."

"Well Jane _needs_ to be setting the table instead of picking on her brothers," Angela finally interjects.

"The last time I checked, Frankie and Tommy were perfectly capable of putting plates on a table, Ma."

Angela rolls her eyes. "_Yes_, Jane, they are. But the last time I checked, _you_ were the one that lived here."

Jane knows when she's not going to win, and that just happens to be every single time she's up against her mother.

She grumbles about _unfair _and _unappreciative turdheads _as she carries the cutlery and plates to the dining area while Tommy and Frankie plant their asses on the couch.

"That girl," Angela finally says, shaking her head though a grin is gracing her face. She looks to Maura. "You were the best thing that ever happened to her. Emma too."

Maura, icing a cake, pauses as a smile overtakes her. "I must say they were the best things to happen to me as well."

Angela turns to look at Emma who is sitting on the kitchen counter to help with the cake. "Speaking of which, you look pretty as a picture! Where are my kisses?"

Not caring about the icing that's somehow gotten all over her grandbaby, Angela repeatedly kisses all over Emma's face with a teasing fervor.

Emma tries to fend off the attack, but succumbs to a case of the giggles. "Nanaaa. Nana, stop it! It—tick—tickles!"

"You are getting so big," Angela reminisces as she finally pulls back. "And look just like Janie when she was little. Except for that hair. Count your blessings for that, sweetie."

Emma's brow furrows. "But Mama's hair is pretty."

"Now it is," Angela agrees. "But when she was little, I made the mistake of cutting it clean off to her ears. It puffed up like a cotton ball on the top of her head. I learned my lesson after that."

"What I wouldn't give to see that," Maura says, smiling as she tries to picture it.

"Well lucky for you, I have a pictu—"

"Ma!" Jane interjects as she marches into the kitchen. "Don't you dare."

"Oh, Jane. I'm sure Maura's seen you look worse. Now help me bring the food to the table," Angela finishes as she walks off.

Jane turns to Maura. "_I'm sure Maura's seen you look worse._ What's that supposed to mean?"

Maura shrugs in feigned-cluelessness. "I'd still love you with cotton-ball hair though."

"You say that now," Jane retorts. Grinning, she gives her wife a quick kiss. "I love you too."

"Girls, quit dilly-dallying in there. The food is getting cold!"

Jane barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. Her mother had a penchant for ruining perfectly good moments with her loud mouth.

But Maura looks so beautiful like this. With her hair down and curled perfectly, with barely any makeup on and a genuine smile gracing her face and her eyes filled the brim with happiness and excitement and love. Jane leans in for one more kiss before—

"Janie?"

This time she does roll her eyes. "Alright, alright. Hold your horses, Ma. Geez."

She steps away from Maura and turns to lift Emma from her spot on the counter. There's icing _everywhere _but Jane doesn't even bother trying to wipe it off. This kid's eating habits are too much like her own for it to really matter anyway.

"Can I sit next to Rankie, Mama?"

"Yes," Jane agrees, placing Emma on her hip.

"And mommy?"

"Sure."

"And Nana?"

"You better rethink your plan, half-pint, and reduce it to two."

Emma sports a small pouts on her face. "Fine. I want Mommy and Nana to sit with me."

Jane gasps, "What about me?"

Emma sticks out her tongue before smiling. "I want you across for funny faces!"

Jane proudly replies, "I like the way you think, kid."

Despite Angela's worries, the dinner was still hot and somehow even better than remembered from the year before. Frankie and Tommy had fought over the potatoes for nearly two minutes before it was decided that neither were allowed to have any. Emma had briefly gotten in trouble for trying to feed her puppy under the table, and Jane was called out for making faces at her daughter—which were decidedly more than a little unattractive. Maura and Angela had been the only ones to escape with more of the food in their stomach than on their clothes, and everyone (minus Emma) was left too full to move by the time they were finished.

"Oh my God," Jane moans as she leans back in her chair. "Can't get up."

"Nope," Frankie agrees. "I'll probably still be here by the time my shift starts tomorrow."

"I don't think so," Jane replies. "You're outta here in an hour. I've got stuff to do."

"Jane," Maura reprimands. "Don't be rude."

"Fine," she looks to Frankie. "An hour and a half."

Maura simply sighs. Sometimes she just really doesn't understand the sibling dynamic.

Suddenly there's a far off squeal and then a frantic shout, "Mama!"

Despite her food induced immobility, Jane abruptly stands and rushes towards the living room.

"Emma? What's wrong?"

"Look!" is the replying squeak from her daughter. Emma jumps up and down, hurriedly waving Jane over, before pressing her face directly against the cold window to leave smudges. "More snow!"

"Wow, would you look at that," Jane wondrously replies as she crouches down at the window. They had already gotten quite a bit over the past few days, but now a thick blanket of fresh whiteness covers their yard.

Jane looks over to her daughter mischievously. "Wanna go?"

Emma's dark eyes grow round as saucers. "Can we?!"

"Do you think I would joke about something like that?"

Grinning, Emma shakes her head.

"Well hurry up and get your coat—don't fall!" Jane calls after the little girl already bouncing out of the room.

* * *

"She can't stay out too long," Maura warns as she triple checks that the hat is securely fastened on her daughter's head.

"I know," Jane concedes.

"We still have to make cookies—"

"I know."

"—and read a Christmas story before bed—"

"Maura," Jane finally stops her softly. She takes Maura's hand in her own. "I know what we still have to do. She won't miss out on a single thing—"

"But it's already almost her bedtime," Maura interjects worriedly. "She'll be getting tired soon."

Jane smiles. As a child, Maura never had any Christmas traditions. So now she does everything to ensure their daughter has them. Tons of them. So many traditions that they spend hours every Christmas Eve doing them all. For most, such a commitment would be tedious. But for Jane, it's like she's able to see the new wonders of Christmas through their eyes; it's like experiencing her childhood right alongside them all over again.

She leans forward and kisses the soft skin of Maura's temple. "It's Christmas Eve, babe. We'll be lucky if she ever goes to sleep."

Maura's head tilts. "Why wouldn't she? She's very good about going to bed on time."

Jane wags her brows as she looks down to their little girl. "Because someone's really excited for Santa this year."

"Santa!" Emma screams, jumping up and down in her little pink boots. "Is he coming now? Is he?"

"We still have a while," Jane answers, picking Emma up. "Now let's go before it gets too late."

"Snow angels?"

"Sure. Just watch out for yellow snow," Jane replies, struggling to stand upright as she packs the little girl into the backyard. "That new puppy of yours has a squirrel bladder."

* * *

Maura stands at the window and watches them play in the dim glow cast by the porch light. She loves their interactions; she loves how seamlessly Jane stepped into the role of _Mama _while still holding on to _protector _and _certified badass _(the last one is by Jane's insistence). Their laughter is contagious and Jane has a way of drawing it from their daughter like no one else. They are so much alike and yet, polar opposites that bring out the best in each other.

Her hand presses against her heart of its own accord. She's so incredibly lucky to have them both in her life.

"If you want to go out there, Maura, I'll be happy to clean up."

"No, it's alright," she replies, turning to smile at Angela.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'm more than happy to stay inside with you," she replies. "In fact, there's something I'd like to tell you."

Angela eyes her skeptically as she comes to stand by her. "Okay."

"Thank you," Maura starts genuinely. "For giving me a family. For raising the woman I love so splendidly. For being a wonderful grandmother to Emma…thank you. You have given me more than I had ever imagined for myself."

"Oh Maura," Angela's chin quivers before pulling her into a motherly hug. "I love you like my own. And don't you forget it."

"Thank you," Maura replies, stepping back. She nervously starts twisting the ring on her finger. "There's something else…"

"Stop right there," Angela interrupts. Her grin blooms into a full-blown smile. "I already know."

The shock is clear on Maura's face. "You do?"

"I do," Angela confirms excitedly.

They share a brief look.

"Well I'm gonna go before it snows any more," Angela starts. "Tell Emma that TJ will be at the house waiting on her to play with their toys tomorrow. You know how much she loves that."

"Of course," Maura answers. "Be careful driving out there."

With a wave and smile, Angela turns to leave.

She's almost at the door when she abruptly turns around donning a smile.

"And don't you worry about Jane, Maura. She's more excited than you think."


	2. Chapter 2

"We gotta put red springles on the sock cookies and green ones on the Christmas trees."

Emma, donning footed pajamas with ornaments and Santas all over them, stands on a chair between Jane and Maura so she can reach the counter to help decorate their annual Christmas cookies. Her fingers are stained red and greed from the icing and, from Jane's perspective, it looks like Maura is having just as much fun as Emma.

"Sprinkles," Maura gently corrects. "And those are called stockings."

"Stockings," Emma tries, rolling the word around in her mouth to get used to it. "Okay. Can I have one? Just to make sure they taste good."

Maura sends a knowing glance to Jane, who responds with a raised brow and equally-knowing grin.

"I suppose you can have one," Maura replies, handing over a sprinkle-encrusted sweet. "Just to make sure they taste good, of course."

Immediately, Emma takes a bite that's probably bigger than her mouth.

She _is_ her mama's daughter, after all.

"Mmm," she finally hums, accidentally blowing crumbs everywhere. "Santa will like these."

"He ought to," Jane exclaims, waving her arms towards the disastrous mess covering their counter. "Back in my day, we just used cookies from a tube. None of this fancy schmancy rolling pin and imported vanilla cra—stuff."

Maura, without missing a beat, replies, "You honestly think I'll believe your mother didn't make her cookies from scratch as well?"

Jane rolls her eyes. "Well getting them from a package is what _I_ would've done."

"You wouldn't have gotten lots of presents for that," Emma pipes up in between licking the sticky goo from her fingertips.

Jane playfully pokes her daughter's nose before asking, "What makes you think you're getting lots of presents?"

"I was a very good girl this year."

"Oh, were you?"

"Mhm. Very good," Emma replies with an exaggerated nod. "I cleaned my room and washed my hands 'fore dinner. And I made him these good cookies too."

"All very good points," Maura chimes in. "But…did you make sure the pets have plenty of water for tonight?"

Her eyes go round.

"Bass! Pickles?" She yells as she jumps from her chair in a flurry of arms and legs. "Where are you guys? It's drinkin' time!"

Shaking her head, Jane laughs. "That kid."

"She reminds me of what I think you were like when you were younger."

"Nah," Jane refutes immediately.

"No?"

Jane shakes head. "I was a mess. A bona-fide wild child. But her?"

Maura watches from the kitchen as Emma chases their new puppy around the living room. The word leaves her in an emotional sigh, "Perfect."

"That she is," Jane replies before looking down to the counter at Maura's immaculately piped cookies. "Jesus, Maura. Who are you? Michelangelo?"

Maura innocently shrugs. "I want them to look nice."

"Why? We're just going to eat them later."

"Shhh," Maura playfully reprieves. "_Santa_ is eating them later, Jane."

"By Santa, you mean me. Because I'm not saving you any," Jane replies, grinning at the rolling eyes of her wife. She pushes the chair between them out of the way with her socked foot. "C'mere."

Maura steps into her arms. With neither in shoes, she's at the perfect height to place her arms on Jane's shoulder and look up to her wife. Their bodies mesh into the other's perfectly until there is no real distinction between where Jane ends and Maura begins; until only warmth and love and _home_ flow between them.

"I love you," Maura says reverently as she brushes her fingers against the nape of Jane's neck.

"I love you back," Jane kisses her, "so much."

"Me too. I…"

Jane's face scrunches at the hesitancy.

"What?"

Maura flounders; she's uncharacteristically unable to form any words whatsoever.

Jane now worriedly asks, "Maura?"

"I—" Maura glances away and sees Emma running back to the kitchen. "It's nothing that can't wait."

"Oh, no. You can't just freak me out like that and then walk away."

"Later," Maura sharply replies. She steps away from Jane's embrace and turns to Emma with a smile. "Are you ready to put these cookies out?"

"And milk?"

"And the milk," Maura confirms.

"Then we can read stories and snuggles?"

Maura lovingly tucks away an unruly light brown strand of hair from her daughter's face. "Absolutely."

* * *

The decorated cookies are set out and Emma is finally coerced and tucked snuggly between Maura and Jane in her little bed. Maura, as always, starts to read one of their favorite Christmas books. Her voice is melodic and smooth, as rhythmic as waves lapping up on the beach to wash away all other worries. As the story goes on, Emma curls tighter into Maura's chest and her eyes start to grow heavy.

It's these moments that make Jane's heart clench. Emma doesn't look a thing like Maura, doesn't _sound _like Maura—neither in pitch nor in the things she says. They are polar opposites (except in their penchant for pretty clothes) that stick together like glue. Yes, Jane has her baseball and cartoon loving buddy, but Maura has the softer side of their daughter. The cuddly side; the side that wants to sit next to Maura at dinner and ask Maura endless questions about the wonders of the universe every night before bed.

And Jane's glad; she's glad Maura gets this. Maura had been so terrified she would be a terrible mother due not only to her own lineage but also for her habit of over-explaining and record of emotional detachment.

But Jane had known better. She had known Maura could be soft and loving; she had known Maura could kiss boo-boos and give sleepy cuddles good enough to compete with the best of them.

And she was right.

Maura is all of that and more.

When Jane reopens her own eyes, she realizes Emma's are closed, Maura's finished reading and, subsequently, has been watching them for a while now.

"You know I hate it when you do that," Jane whispers as she rubs her eyes.

"You both favor so much when you're asleep," Maura replies as softly. "I love both of my girls very much."

Jane sleepily grins. "You make it hard to stay mad at you."

"Good to know," Maura starts as she gives a gentle kiss to her daughter's head. "Let's go so she can sleep."

Jane follows Maura into bedroom, already beginning to strip off her festive sweater. "Please tell me you'll put on that red…outfit…I got to enjoy last Christmas."

"I hadn't planned on it."

Jane abruptly stops in their doorway halfway through pulling off her clothes. "What? Why not? I've been pretty good this year. I think I deserve it."

"You get something better." Maura then starts worrying her lip. "Well at least I think it's something better."

Jane almost scoffs. "Better than see-through underwear? I don't think so."

Maura lifts a brow. "Jane."

"Fine." Jane sits on their bed and finishes removing her clothes until she's only wearing her undershirt and boyshorts. She looks up to Maura expectantly. "So? What is it?"

Maura begins undressing and folds her clothes with just as much precision as she does all things. There's one of Jane's faded and worn soft shirts draped over the chaise lounge and Maura chooses to tug that over her bare chest instead of looking for a pair of her own sleepwear. It's more comfortable and makes her feel closer to Jane while she sleeps anyway.

In nothing but that shirt and her barely more than see-through underwear, she walks over and straddles Jane's lap.

"Oh." Jane grins as the pleasant weight of her wife settles on her thighs. "I see."

Her hands skim Maura's hips and land firmly on taught thighs as Maura begins planting feather light kisses up Jane's neck and jaw, each growing in fervor and warmth until she's right at the lobe of her ear.

"Jane?" Maura whispers, warm and soft.

Jane fights the shiver up her spine from the tickling reverberations in her ear. "Yeah?"

"It—Well I—" Maura starts hesitantly. She pulls back to look Jane in the eye, now devoid of her confidence. "We're having a baby. Well, technically I'm having a baby, but it's our baby. So like last time, and like most people agree, I feel it's still correct to say _we're_ when referring to the offspring of two partners—"

Jane's hands still immediately from their former explorations. "What?"

Maura, again, flounders before finding her words. "It worked. I'm—"

"You're…pregnant?"

"Yes. I'm pregnant."

"We're having a baby?"

"Yes," Maura replies, more softly now due to the fear etched on Jane's face.

Jane's eyes begin to water. Still unmoving, she thinks back to two years ago when they were almost in this same position. Maura had whispered their good news over a fancy dessert Jane couldn't pronounce at a restaurant Jane could barely afford on her own. They had been ecstatic from the very start. In fact, if she thinks hard enough she can still remember Maura's eyes lighting up in the candlelight of that too expensive dinner after she had let Jane in on their expectancy.

But marring that is the image of Maura, eyes red-rimmed and face pale from hours of crying, after they found out they lost it only weeks later. That is the image that sticks with her now; the memories of consoling her wife, of consoling each other, are sometimes just too hard to forget.

"Say something," Maura finally urges in a strangled whisper.

Jane barely shakes her head. "I don't know what to say."

"Jane…"

"I'm so happy but," Jane starts softly. "I'm scared.

Maura nods. "Me too."

"After last time…" Looking away, Jane shakes her head. "We can't go through that again."

"There are no guarantees, Jane. We knew that when we started trying again."

"I know, I know. But…it's so real now."

Maura tenderly cups Jane's face until their eyes meet again. "It happens. It _happened._ And yes," Maura's voice drops, "It may happen again. But I'm hopeful that it won't. That may be silly, but I—"

"I love you," Jane interrupts, unable to hold back the words any longer. She presses one hand on a still-flat stomach before pulling Maura down towards her, before kissing Maura so hard they're left struggling to catch their breath. The air between them is thick as Jane finishes, "I love you so much. And we're in this together, so…that means we can be hopeful together. Right?"

Maura tentatively grins and places her hand atop Jane's own and gives it a gentle squeeze. Sometimes she loves this woman more than words could ever manage to articulate.

Jane smiles, finally a full and whole and true smile, as she looks back up to Maura. "I don't want to get my hopes up but, gah, I'm so…"

"Excited?"

"More than you know." A small laugh bubbles through her. "God, more than you know."

Maura smiles through her forming tears. "That's all I needed to hear."

They take their time after that, being soft and slow and tender. Jane takes her time exploring Maura's body in ways she hasn't done in months; she treats each and every part of Maura like it's her very salvation and leaves Maura well-sated by way of veneration.

Maura is just as tender as she kisses away every wrinkle that arises on her wife's face, as she whispers soft assurances through every sigh and gasp until Jane is clinging to her like Maura's the only thing left in the entire world keeping her afloat.

When they're done and breathing heavily, matching each other breath for breath, Jane lazily traces patterns on Maura's freckled shoulder.

"This is our ninth Christmas together," Jane croaks out in a whisper. "Isn't that crazy?

Maura's brow softly creases in thought. "We've only been together for six years, Jane. Well, if that outing to that hot dog stand counts. Only five years and eleven months if we count from our dinner at Tobahar's onward."

"The hot dogs don't count," Jane replies with a laugh. "But even so, it's still our ninth. We were friends before we were together. And we were together before we were _together._ You know?"

Maura laughs softly. "Will you be mad if I still don't have a clue what you're talking about?"

Jane playfully rolls her eyes. "What I'm trying to say is that I loved you a long time before I actually said _I love you_."

"I see," Maura replies. She gives Jane a lingering kiss. "Merry ninth Christmas together, Jane. I've loved you just as long."

Smiling back, Jane places hand on dip of Maura's abdomen. "That's good to know. And for the record? This is the best Christmas gift I've ever gotten."

"Better than last year's?"

A smile graces Jane's face as she thinks back to the red lingerie with little black bows that perfectly set off the pale skin of her wife. It was good, but…

"Yeah," Jane responds. "Even better than last year's."

* * *

**I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas! Thanks so much for the reads/reviews. They really made my day.  
And if I don't post again in the next few days, I hope you have a Happy New Years as well!  
**


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